Unexpected Treats
by Jay Nice
Summary: Bobby's holidays were always uneventful after Karen died. Some drinks, the proper festivities on a small scale, but nothing large, and always alone. But when John dumps Sam and Dean at his house one Thanksgiving, how will Bobby, inexperienced parent, cope? Why, with pie, of course! Wee!chesters


**So this story was a suggestion from my friend AltoOwl, who wanted an origin story for Dean's love of pie, and also beta'd it, and provided me with a title, and wrote the summary... Basically, all I did was actually write it. Thanks, Owl! :)**

**Disclaimer: I guess I don't own the boys, Bobby, John, or anyone else. I'm just borrowing them and making them do my bidding! *insert evil laugh here***

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Bobby Singer had sworn to never have kids. He always imagined he'd turn out like his father: an abusive drunk who took out all his anger on his family. Bobby remembered crying himself to sleep for many nights after he killed his father. He knew what he had done and he wasn't sorry, but the guilt still weighed him down. At the young age of 11, Bobby took an oath to never even look at any kind of alcohol, in fear that he'd become a monster like his dad. That is, until he became of age. Drinks took the edge off of life, he found, made all the crap he went through bearable. He found himself visiting a bar or similar everyday after work, getting drunk on too many occasions. But he didn't mind. He came to love alcohol. He loved the smell, the feeling as it went down your throat, and the weight it took off your shoulders. Just like his father, alcohol became his best friend.<p>

Then came Karen. Boy, did Bobby love her. He stopped drinking to cope, as he had come to do, and settled with a beer every so often. Karen was his light, she gave his days happiness. He looked forward to the end of every day so he could see her, spend time with her, love her and not the drinks. Karen was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her, even if that anything was quitting drinking.

Well, until she asked if he would ever consider having kids.

It was sudden, one evening when they were eating dinner (a wonderful lasagna that Karen had prepared). Bobby was so flabbergasted, he couldn't say anything for a while. No, he couldn't. There was no way he could put a kid through the same childhood he'd had to live through. So, Bobby politely said he'd think about it.

That was his excuse every time Karen brought up the subject. Bobby was hoping she'd get the hint, that no, he would not like kids.

She never got the hint, so Bobby said it to her face.

She didn't speak to him for a while after that. It broke Bobby's heart. That night, he hit a bar for the first time in years.

Then she'd gotten possessed.

It didn't take Bobby long to realize that his Karen was not his Karen. It beat him bloody, attacked his body and his mind as demons often did, or so he learned later. Then, Bobby did the unthinkable.

He stabbed his wife.

Multiple times actually, for it had no effect. No matter how many times he stabbed her, she kept on coming. Bobby had no clue what was happening, no clue why she wasn't dead. He was sobbing, begging the thing (for that wasn't his wife) to stop and let him live. He was saved when a man, some guy by the name of Rufus Turner, barged into his home and killed her. Exorcised the demon in her, actually. Turner explained the supernatural, hitting Bobby with the hard truth that monsters were real, and that Rufus hunted and killed them. Bobby had just seen his wife die by his hand. He asked Rufus how he could start this "hunting."

He later learned that she'd been possessed because she'd been emotionally unstable, that her depression led to a demon being able to enter her easier than most. Back then, however, he thought that he'd caused it all by not giving her a child. In a way, he supposed, he had.

So Bobby became a hunter of the supernatural. He traveled the country with Rufus and learned all he could about monsters and how to kill them. He started drinking again. If there wasn't at least three bottles of cheap whiskey in his pantry, he was probably dead. He grieved over Karen's death, but had a strange peace knowing that he wasn't hurting anyone anymore, instead saving people. His tendency to get drunk was uncontrollable, just like his dad. If he'd had kids, there was no doubt in Bobby's mind that they would suffer as he had, since he knew he was the exact image of his father.

Needless to say, when he first met John Winchester, he stayed a safe distance away from his kids. Dean and Sam, 5 and 1. They were cute, but too small to be traveling with their daddy around the country fighting monsters. Honestly, who did that to a kid? They had lost their mother to something supernatural just six months ago, and John was exposing them to more trauma? When Bobby had voiced this opinion to him, he'd smoothly replied that Sam didn't know about monsters yet. Well, that made Bobby feel so much better. Yes, the infant knew nothing of the supernatural, but what of Dean? Bobby had known him for about twenty minutes, and already saw the terror in the kid's eyes. According to John, Mary Winchester had burned alive on the ceiling of Sam's nursery with her stomach slashed and bloody. John didn't think Dean had seen anything, but Bobby begged to differ. Dean hadn't spoken since the fire that destroyed their lives, and no one does that unless they've seen things.

John had left, only after Bobby said that he promised to tutor him with all he knew about the supernatural. Bobby didn't hear from the Winchesters until Thanksgiving Day later that year. John showed up at his doorstep and dropped off his boys with a small duffel and a, "Found a lead on Mary's killer. Be back as soon as I can."

So that's how Bobby Singer found himself, unwillingly, with two rug-rats in his house. Dean was staring at the door with a blank look on his face, clutching his baby brother tightly. Bobby had no clue what to do. He'd been just about to eat; he'd microwaved a few slices of store-bought turkey and grabbed a cherry pie at the market, completing his Thanksgiving dinner. He may not have had a family to celebrate with, but he wasn't one to forgo tradition. Now it looked like he had two more to feed.

"Hey, Dean?" The little boy turned to look at Bobby, eyes wide. "Do you two want something to eat? I have lunch ready for me, I can get some for you two."

Dean shook his head slightly, still holding Sam with a death grip. He looked back to the front door.

Bobby's heart broke then and there. John Winchester had just abandoned his two boys, on Thanksgiving of all days, probably without so much as a warning to Dean. The poor kid was missing his dad, and terrified of this man whom he'd only seen once before. What the heck was John thinking?

"You wanna go put your things in the guest room?" he offered cautiously.

Dean thought about it, biting his lower lip slightly, before nodding slowly. He grabbed their bag and held his brother's hand. He looked up at Bobby expectedly.

"It's upstairs, I'll hold Sam and help you climb," Bobby said, assuming that was the best thing to say to kid that age.

Dean shook his head rapidly and grabbed Sam. Okay, so he wasn't going to let Bobby help with Sam.

"Come on then, I'll be right behind you." Bobby waited for Dean to move before following close behind. The little boy was crawling up the steps himself, all while tugging the duffel and helping Sam climb the large stairs. Bobby watched cautiously, unsure if he should just swoop both of them up in his arms and just carry them up, or let Dean do what he wanted. Seeing as the kid was already frightened, maybe not letting him do as he wished wasn't the best idea.

They eventually made it to the second floor, and Bobby led them to the bedroom. There was a single bed, but somehow he doubted the boys minded. Dean laid his bag down and looked up at Bobby, a questioning look in his green gaze. Bobby realized that no matter how grown up and responsible this kid was for his age, he was still a kid. He needed guidance and love like a regular child.

"You're a good brother, Dean," he settled on, figuring it was something the kid should hear. It was true; Bobby had never seen a kid who cared so much for his sibling.

His was rewarded when he saw the pride that swelled within the small boy. Dean smiled, which was a beautiful sight. His smile lit his entire person up.

"I'm gonna go eat, you two can come down if you'd like." Bobby smirked awkwardly at Dean, before going down to the kitchen. Man, he needed a drink.

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><p>He tried to call John Winchester multiple times, but to no avail. The next time he saw the man, he swore he'd shoot him full of rock salt. Grabbing himself a beer, Bobby sat down in front of his Thanksgiving dinner. Beer and deli-sliced turkey. Not bad. Of course, he had his pie as well. He couldn't wait to dig into that thing.<p>

He heard a faint shuffling, and he turned. There stood Dean, looking at Bobby nervously.

"Hey, kiddo," Bobby said. "Where's Sam?"

Dean pointed to the staircase. He gazed imploringly at Bobby, willing him to understand.

"Okay..." Bobby didn't understand, but for the kid's sake he pretended he could. "So he's still up there?"

Dean nodded. His eyes were wide, and wandering from Bobby. When looking to where the child's eyes had rested, he noticed that he was looking at Bobby's dinner.

"You wanna eat, Dean?" Bobby asked. "I can get you some turkey."

Dean nodded and made his way towards Bobby's table, where he cautiously took a seat. Bobby prepared a plate with a couple of slices, and handed it to his young guest. He grinned when he saw how Dean inhaled it, taking in all of the savory meat. When he finished, he licked his lips and pointed at Bobby's pie, a confused look on his face.

Bobby chuckled. "It's cherry pie, Dean. You want some?"

Dean smiled and nodded. Heart warmed, Bobby cut him a thin slice and watched as his face lit up. Before he knew it, the piece was gone and Dean was pointing more intensely at the pie. He wanted more.

"Okay, but don't tell your daddy," Bobby joked, filling Dean's plate with a larger slice. He dug right in, devouring it in half the time. Once again, he motioned for another piece. This time, Bobby shook his head. "Nope, I'd say that's enough for tonight." Once again, Dean gave him a befuddled look. "Well, it's sugar, you see. Just like cake or candy. You're only allowed to have a little at a time."

Dean made a small 'o' shape with his mouth, and nodded, telling Bobby that he understood. Then, he got down and started making his way back up the stairs.

Yup, Bobby was already hooked on these little suckers. They were so darn cute, how could John treat them the way he did?

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Dean descending back down the stairs, this time pulling his baby brother in tow. Judging on Sam's tussled hair, he'd been sleeping and Dean has woken him up. Once they braved the staircase, Dean nearly ran back to the table where he'd eaten. He helped Sam into a chair, and settled back into his. With a huge smile if his face, Dean pointed to the dessert and exclaimed, "Pie, Sammy!"

Bobby laughed. What else could he do? Dean hadn't spoken for a year now, and he'd just broken his vigil of silence over pie!

Sam clapped triumphantly, sensing his brother's excitement but not truly understanding what it was about. Dean giggled, and repeated, "Pie! Pie!"

"Do you think Sam wants some pie?" Bobby asked, unable to wipe the joy off of his face. Dean nodded so hard Bobby thought his head might fly off. So Bobby fed the one year old a half slice of pie, expecting the same response as Dean.

Sam frowned at the plate that was in front of him, and smashed it with a chubby fist. Dean's eyes widened, and he practically screamed, "No, Sammy!"

"I don't know if Sammy likes pie quite as much as you do, Dean," Bobby said. The distraught look on Dean's face was priceless.

"No pie?" he whispered softly.

"No pie." Bobby confirmed.

"I have pie?" The fact that Dean was talking this much was shocking to Bobby. John had told Bobby the last time they'd met that he'd begun to think Dean was going to be a mute forever. Now that he was actually speaking a few words, Bobby could see the effort it was taking. Dean was concentrating on every syllable that left his lips, making sure it sounded correct as to get his message across.

"I guess you can have Sam's pie, since he ain't gonna eat it himself," Bobby conceded. "But this is our secret, okay?" He held a finger to his lips, and was delighted when Dean did the same. Once again, he went on to devouring the pie that lay in front of him.

The Winchester boys stayed with Bobby for about three weeks after that incident. Dean slowly began talking more and more, even learning Bobby's name, and somehow "Bobby" turned into "Uncle Bobby," but no one questioned it. Even Sam, who could say minimal words, had taken to calling for "Ukle Bawby." They played in his scrap yard, under great supervision of course, where Dean loved to pretend he was driving a car and racing Sammy. They watched cartoons, played with toys Bobby had found at Dollar General, and ate pie. Ever since Dean's first experience, he'd been wanting the sacred dessert everyday. Bobby only got it every once in a while, however. If Dean had pie everyday, he'd be on an extreme sugar rush that no one would be able to bring him out of. As far as Bobby could tell, his boys were happy, and he wasn't doing too bad at this parenting thing.

John stumbled in one night, covered in blood and something that could have been ectoplasm. "Didn't get it," he'd announced dejectedly, as if Bobby couldn't tell. He helped sew him up and whatnot, making sure he would be presentable to his kids come morning. With all of his being, Bobby wanted to slap him silly, scream at him for abandoning his boys, for forcing Bobby into a position he was uncomfortable with. But, he held his tongue. For now.

Bobby didn't sleep that night, instead choosing to pour over his books with a glass of whiskey by his side. Well, make that multiple glasses of whiskey.

When Sam and Dean woke up the next morning, they were shocked to see their dad passed out on the couch. Bobby could hear Dean whispering, "Daddy! You're home!" John only grunted in response, before falling back to sleep.

"He's tired, Dean. He had a long trip," Bobby said.

"Okay." And that was it. There was no question, no wondering why, just consent.

"You guys want some breakfast?" Bobby tried. "You two still haven't finished that box of diabetes you call cereal."

"It's Lucky Charms, Uncle Bobby!" Dean said exasperatedly, shaking his head as if saying that Bobby would never learn.

The two boys ate their breakfast in silence. Dean could see his dad from his seat, and his gaze never left his unmoving form. Once Sam had gone to play with the army men that were scattered on the floor, Dean asked, "What's wrong with Daddy?"

Bobby sighed and sat by the boy. "He's just had a rough time. He's fine, just very tired."

"Was it a monster?"

There it was. The whole time they'd been at Bobby's house, monsters had not been mentioned once.

"Yeah, kiddo. It was." Bobby watched Dean's reaction, but it was surprisingly calm. There might have been a slight tremor in his hands, but he made sure not to show any fear, if there was any.

"Is it dead?" Dean looked at Bobby almost pleadingly.

Honestly, John hadn't told him if the spirit or whatever it was had been killed. "I'm sure your daddy took care of it," he said, fulfilled when Dean smiled faintly.

"Dean?"

Speak of the devil...

"Daddy!" Dean leaped out of his chair and tackled John in a bear hug. John winced slightly, but altogether looked better than he had the night before.

"Did you just say..." John looked at Bobby in shock and amazement, then crouched to hug his son back. "Hey, Dean-o. Were you good for Bobby?"

"Yeah! Uncle Bobby gave us pie!" Dean exclaimed.

Of course that was the first thing he wanted to share with his dad. Bobby chuckled.

"Uncle Bobby?" John furrowed his eyebrows. "Pie?"

"Yeah, but Sammy doesn't like it."

John let out a breathless chuckle. "Why don't you go keep Sammy occupied, let Bobby and I talk?"

"Okay!" Dean rushed off.

John ran a hand through his hair. "How did you get him to talk? I... he hasn't spoken for over a year, how did it happen?"

"I got him some pie, he came back practically chanting for more." Bobby grinned at the look of disbelief on John's face. "He's been talking more and more ever since."

John rubbed his temples. "I can't believe it. He's actually talking."

"Kid's been through a lot, John," Bobby said. "You gotta remember that. I think he deserved a little coping time. You _are_ going to stay for Christmas, right?"

"Christmas?" By the look on John's face, he'd forgotten all about the holiday. "No, Bobby, I couldn't do that to you."

"Do what to me? I'm offering, ain't I?" At John's hesitant look, he continued, "Don't be an idjit, John. Let your boys have a little more normal."

"No, we really should leave. I've found a possible shifter case down in Tucson, should really go check it out..."

Bobby shook his head. "Nice try, but you're staying here. I'll call a hunter who's already on a case down there and let him know. You are staying here for Christmas, and if you don't, I'm gonna lock you in the basement, you got that?"

John rolled his eyes. "I could take you any day, old man."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Well, I don't wanna break your hip, so I think I'll pass." John laughed softly. He glanced over to where his boys were playing together, Dean chatting amiably to his little brother. "We'll stay. I think it will be good for Dean."

"Good choice," Bobby grunted. "Could I interest you in a beer?"

"Oh, definitely." John nodded, accepting the cold bottle.

And that's how Bobby ended up adopting two boys of his own, and they grew up to be heroes.

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><p><strong>So... that's it! Hope you liked it!<strong>

**Please take a moment to leave your comments, questions, concerns, complaints, hates, praise, or death threats!**


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